


My Dahlia Bathed In Possession

by orphan_account



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Caligari Spell (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina), Dark Magic, F/M, Forced Relationship, Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A brief glimpse into Faustus and Zelda’s honeymoon.
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	My Dahlia Bathed In Possession

Faustus has always prided himself on his ability to anticipate the actions of those around him. Especially those who thought they could outsmart or undermine him. Edward Spellman had been one of those people, he thought himself intelligent, and thought that Faustus was unaware of his contempt for him. Had even tried to overthrow his authority; all the while unaware that Faustus had already predicted such betrayal; and plans had already been set in motion to rid the world of him.

Edward was a wearisome combatant though, and so easy to manipulate and conquer. Where as his little sister, was a much more interesting adversary. She was almost as calculated as Faustus was; though had an empathetic streak which would ultimately lead to her downfall. But Zelda was also incredibly difficult to read, so he saw her as somewhat of a challenge. Naturally he had wasted no time in instigating a game of cat and mouse between them. It had started after Zelda’s Dark Baptism, and gone on for decades. Faustus enjoyed letting Zelda think sometimes that she had the upper hand, while all the while knowing she could never beat him. Never the less he indulged and benefited from the nature of their relationship. It was carnality at its best, never soft or gentle; that was not them.

So when he’d informed her that he had once asked Edwards permission to propose, he knew that Zelda’s emotional reaction was just as fake as the story itself. And her reasons for accepting, were not sprung from love but from a desire for power. And that was fine, because he did not love her either. He did however need a wife, for the sake of appearances. Zelda was the better option out of a coven of witches he could of easily picked from. They had history, they understood each other; or so that is what he had thought.

It had become clear that Zelda had indeed a weakness. He damned himself for not realising sooner. Zelda would always be held back by her family. From her dimwitted sister and interfering brother, to now her blasphemous niece and nephew. There was no way he could ever come between her loyalty to them; not while she was hellbent on protecting them.

So Faustus had decided that as soon as their marriage was finalised, he would save Zelda from herself; but he would have to subdue her to do so.

The Caligari Spell was an obvious choice. His own mother had been under it for as long as he could remeber. His only trepidation was the thought of having a dull sparing partner. Still, it delighted him to no end having Zelda all to himself. Having her pliant and most of all unable to continually put her family before him.

•

They arrive in Rome just before six in the evening. He holds the door open for Zelda, and allows her to walk in before him; just this once. She takes off her witch brim hat, and places it on a chair nearby. Followed by her coat. “I think I’ll run a bath, my bones ache from sitting still for so long.” She says, and heads off in the direction of the en suite before he responds. While Zelda freshens up, he pours her a glass of champagne with a dose of sleeping potion mixed within.

He knocks before entering the bathroom, only to find the bath water already running, and Zelda only half dressed in a black pencil skirt and vermillion laced bra. She quirks a curious brow at him when she notices him staring at her exposed flesh. “Faustus you are insasiable, wasn’t the car ride here sufficient?” The words drop from her like honey. He grins at her as he recalls the way she’d groaned in his ear as she rode him in the back seat of the car which had brought them from the airport. Luckily the visear has been down, and a soundproofing Spell had stopped any voyerism from the driver.

“More than sufficient my dearest.” Faustus drawls, as he approaches her. “I merely thought a glass of champagne was appropriate. This is our honeymoon after all.” He said as he hands her the glass.

Zelda takes it, her wedding ring glistens as she does, then she pulls a face at the glass in her right hand . “Champagne? Rather an obvious choice. And hardly a drink I favour. Really, Faustus, don’t you know me at all?”

Faustus chuckles under his breath. “Indulge me this once?” He speaks evenly, and raises his glass on the air. “Then I promise I’ll only serve you scotch or absinthe for the remainder of our unholy union.” He lies so smoothly, even he begins to envision a future of them drinking spirits together after excessive and rough sex. Laughing at each other’s wit while basking in the glory of their power. He knows it’s a fantasy; knows after tonight he will have a demure, passive wife. It was for her own good, and his. At least then her wouldn’t have to worry about her double crossing him at every turn.

After an over dramatic sigh, Zelda nods and does the same. She waits patiently with the glass half lifted up. “What shall we toast then?” She asks, and he can tell she’s frustrated. Probably eager to get into her bath and avoid his company. Faustus’s mood darkens at that.

“Obedience.” He announces slyly. For a fraction of a second Zelda’s eyes widen and it’s painfully obvious she’s frightened. Until he slowly adds, “to the Dark Lord of course. _Hail Satan.”_

He waits for a moment, until Zelda’s features relax and clinks clinks their glasses together. “Hail, Satan.” She repeats robotically, then takes a sip of the golden liquid. He smiles at her and does the same. Only he downs it in one, then places the glass down on a marble table next to the bathtub.

“Now you enjoy your bath, my love. I have a few things to attend to in the city but I will not keep you waiting long.” He says, and gets close enough to place a kiss against her lips. He can taste the champagne on her, along with stale cigarettes.

When he pulls back, she’s smiling at him. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, he leans into it. “Take your time.”

•

  
By the time he gets back it’s dark. The apartment itself is much as he had left it an hour ago. The only difference is the smell of lavender which engulfs the place. He knows Zelda always puts the scented oil into her baths. For a moment he is concerned that perhaps giving someone a sleeping potion before a bath was not the smartest thing to do. His worry is short lived though, he knows enough necromancy should it be needed.

He folds his jacket and hangs it behind the door of their apartment. “Zelda?” He calls out, after a brief pause and after no answer, her continues to move about the place. His purpose while out was to get a new wardrobe for his wife. He didn’t dislike her vintage dark outfits, quite the contrary. But there was something twisted and delicious about the idea of dressing up Zelda like a doll. Putting her in florals and pastel hue’s he knows she would hate; this furthering his dominance over her. Perhaps he would have her cut her hair or dye it brunette like he preferred. The possibilities were endless, and he was eager to set everything in motion.

With slight urgency he enters the large bathroom and spots Zelda lying in the tub. Her glass of champagne has fallen to the floor, he concludes she dropped it after passing out. “Such a waste, darling.” He muses, but Zelda doesn’t move. He examines her from where he’s standing. Her arms are thrown over the edges of the tub, holding her small frame up. It’s the only reason she hasn’t drowned. Her head is cast down towards the water, though not submerged. All of her auburn hair is wet though, suggesting that at some point before the affect of the potion, she has dunked her head under the surface.

He steps around the broken glass to kneel next to her. “Oh, Zelda. If only you had cut ties with that insufferable family of yours.” He sighs, as he allows his hand to trace the sharpness of Zelda’s jawline. She is unresponsive, and he stands up again.

He watches her for a moment. She truly was beautiful. Which was unusual, considering she was not as young as he preferred. The lines on her forehead were more prominent, her stomach not as flat as when he’d first encountered her decades ago; but he still feels that familiar tug of lust when he looks at her. “Everything will fall into place for us soon.” He says before backing away towards the door.

There was much to do.

•

The next morning, she finally wakes up. Faustus has been sitting in a chair next to the bed, while she lay atop the covers. He had dressed her the previous night in a simple dusky pink chemise, after preforming the ritual of the caligari spell.

“Darling?” He ventures, as he watches her eyes blink a couple of times. He feels his heart stop, as he awaites to see if the spell has worked.

Zelda adjusts her head to look at him, but remains mute as she stares blankly.

“How are you feeling?” He asks. She stays silent. “Something to drink? Coffee or I could call up for some freshly squeezed orange juice.”

Zelda’s blue eyes keep boring into him, as if she was looking into his very soul. He notices for the first time how her jaw is clenched and her hands are in fists either side of her. Was she trying to overcome the spell? Battling within herself to be rid of it. The thought makes his cock stir.

“I...” she finally croaks.

He leans closer, his fingers curl around her slender wrist. “Yes, Zelda?”

“I...” She tries once again. Then falters. Faustus narrows his eyes. For all he knew this could be a guise, he would not put is past Zelda to play at being oblivious.

“I would like to drink, whatever you prefer...husband.” She gets out finally. Sounding like a step ford wife.

He releases a breath, then lifts her hand up and kisses the back of her knuckles, “then let’s have some coffee.” His nostrils flare when he smells traces of lavender against her skin.

“Allow me to serve you it, husband.” She speaks in a sickly sweet voice. Nothing like the low octave timber of her usual tone; and suddenly Faustus’s relief is replaced with something else. Something revoltingly close to regret. 

He reassures himself that it will pass.


End file.
